Chapter fourteen- In which God sends me dragonflies

I don't mean to say that God's goodness and grace is dependent on Him giving us Molly. God was good before we had kids. He was good when He wanted them with Him instead of with us. If you take away anything from this story, I hope that you will see that His character never changes...That the God of the Psalms and the rest of the Bible is the same yesterday today and forever. It is His desire that we know Him more, be it through the scriptures or life's circumstances. He will use whatever means necessary to conform us into the image of Christ...because He loves us too much not to.

I will always thank God for his graciousness to us in allowing us to have Molly and Josiah (for as long as we do.) God's grace is unmerited favor, and that's what I feel my children are. Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.

Before I go on to tell what God has done in my life since Molly has come (which is awesome, so keep reading!) I want to share about two of the gifts, besides children, God has brought in my life that have illustrated more of His character to me.

Just like I have a thing with birds, my mom has a thing for dragonflies. She heard a sermon about them once....

A man was taking a canoe trip, and while he was out on the water, a water beetle crawled up from the water and sat, perched on the bow of his boat. The water beetle looked like he was peacefully resting, basking in the sunshine. The man was content to watch the little bug as it sat there. After quite some time, the water beetle began to crack and fall apart. The man was quite sad to see it slowly dying. But suddenly as it looked as though it was going to disintegrate and blow away with the next gust of warm summer air, a dragonfly emerged from the hard shell of the beetle. The preacher made the point that if God can do that to a water beetle, imagine what He can do with your life!

That story touched my mother very deeply.

A few years ago, even before I was pregnant with my first baby, my mom began a quilt. It was made with different colored blocks of pink and appliqued shapes. It was adorable. "Who's that for?" I asked.

"I'll have grandbabies someday. This one's for my first granddaughter." she said. I loved it. I always hoped I'd be the first to have a girl just so I could have it. :o)

She would work on it periodically. It was her therapy. She wanted grandkids probably as much as I wanted children for myself, and my mother was not one to sit and wait idly. After a while when all the blocks were done and all of the shapes appliqued onto the fabric, she started embroidering on it. I told her I was pregnant the first time, and she embroidered a bird on it. When I told her I was pregnant again, she added another bird. When she was told of the third pregnancy, yet another bird was added. Finally, when I was pregnant with Molly, she heard that sermon and instead of adding another bird, she embroidered a dragonfly on it.

Now, I'm not saying that because my mom made a dragonfly and not a bird was the reason that this pregnancy finally came to fruition. But what an amazing analogy can be made that what God has done in the life of a water beetle, He can do for us! The quilt will always be a reminder to me that out of our brokenness, God can make a beautiful story and glorify Himself in our lives.

My mom gave me the quilt for Christmas. And when I see it, I am so thankful for the story God has given me, and I remember how God has blessed me with other children that I can't wait to meet one day when He finally takes me to Heaven.

A quick aside about my grandmother before you can fully enjoy the next part of this story. Sorry for the lack of seguay....

My grandmother's name was Joan Negus, who everyone lovingly referred to as "Mutt" (rhymes with foot...it's a German thing..Mutty means "mother"...it got shortened...there you go). She was the great matriarch of our family. Every Christmas, the entire family would go to my grandparents' house in Princeton- aunts, uncles, cousins. There were fourteen of us in all. My most vivid memory of Mutt was of her in the kitchen in front of her gas stovetop- cooking each one of us eggs-to-order. Breakfast was a grand affair- taking 3 hours before all of us were done. But she would happily make sure each one of us was taken care of and got exactly what we wanted. (HER mother owned a Russian Tea House and also loved to cook. I come from a very long line of some amazing nurturing women.) Mutt was also a very talented pattern maker, seamstress, published author, teacher, jam maker, and knitter. Sadly, she passed away from cancer when I was in ninth grade. She never got to meet Justin, see me in my wedding dress, or meet her great-grandchildren. I miss her. But all of her best qualities and talents and passion for life are alive and well in my mother, who has since passed them onto my sisters and me.

One of the most precious gifts that was given to me at Molly's baby shower was from my sister, Amy. The last time she came up from South Carolina, she was cleaning out my mom's craft cabinets. She came across bags and bins and boxes of yarn. Among them was a plastic bag with a half-finished baby sweater in it. Amy, with her vast knitting knowledge, finished the sweater and gave it to Molly. The amazing thing about it was there were directions in the bag with a label on it that said "Megan." The sweater was started 27 years ago by Mutt and was intended for me. So that beautiful minty green sweater was actually given to me by three amazing generations of women in my life- Mutt who started it and taught my mother to knit, my mother who taught her daughters to knit, and my sister Amy who finished it.

Before Amy gave the sweater to me, she was taking pictures of it outside on a warm sunny summer day. Just as she was about to click the shutter, a dragonfly landed on the sweater... just long enough for the moment to be captured, and then it flew away.

Yet another example and reminder of how God can take the half-done, seemingly unfinished, broken things in our life and turn them into something beautiful.

Chapter thirteen- In which God heals my bitterness with His grace

I put it out of my mind that I was even having a baby. It seemed like the proverbial carrot forever dangling in front of my nose that I could never have but was always there, mocking me. I didn't want to even daydream about having our sweet baby girl in my arms. My hopes had been dashed one too many times.

One night over Chinese food, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I winced. My mother who was sitting across from me at the dinner table asked what was wrong. It was five days before my due date. "Probably nothing," I said. I took another bite of my chicken and broccoli. There it was again. I doubled over. "Let's start timing your contractions," my mom said. I just kept on eating my dinner. It couldn't possibly be time. I wasn't even all packed yet for the hospital. The pain was coming every five minutes. An hour later, it was every three, and I finally called my doctor.

"Come on in," she said. "We'll take a look and see what's going on."

I remember driving away from my parents' house, my mom holding Josiah in her arms. In a way I was sad that he wasn't going to have me all to himself anymore. I didn't want to have to leave my sweet boy.

When we got to the hospital, I was convinced we wouldn't be staying. It would be braxton hicks contractions, and they would be sending us home in about an hour. We got to triage and I changed into a hospital gown and they hooked me up to monitors. I could feel the contractions coming steadily every three to five minutes. An hour after we got there, a nurse came in and said that no contractions were being picked up by the monitor. "What?!?!" I said in an annoyed tone, "An hour of this and I have nothing to show for it? If these aren't contractions, I don't want to see what contractions do feel like." The nurse checked me.

4 centimeters dilated and 90% effaced.

I would be staying.

By 8:00 I was in a delivery room. It was obvious at this point I would not get to enjoy the jacuzzi tub that they provided. I wouldn't get to try out my new slippers while walking laps around the maternity ward. I wouldn't get to enjoy the seasons of The Office on my laptop I brought. This baby was coming. Fast.

They checked me again. 6 centimeters. 100% effaced.

Epidural please? If I didn't get it soon, I wouldn't be able to. Two men came in to read me the risks. Yeah, yeah yeah....hurry please? As soon as they finished putting it in they checked me again. 10 centimeters. Time to push.

The anesthesiologist looked at me and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to be honest." he spoke in a fatherly tone. "You're not going to get to enjoy the effects of this epidural. Most women get the epidural when they are between 2-4 centimeters."

Great. Needle in my back for nothing. I didn't care. A few more minutes and the pain would be over. And I don't just mean the physical pain. I pushed for 30 minutes.

"One more push, and she'll be here." The nurse said. I didn't believe her.

It was 10:04. I yelled and gripped Justin's hand until his fingers turned white. Then everything stood still. The clock, the air. I could see her perfect little round head and tiny hands and feet. She was here. Finally. I couldn't believe it.

"There actually was a baby in there!" I said trying to convince myself that the moment actually happened. For months I felt her kicking and hiccuping. Sometimes I let myself imagine what her tiny fingers looked like. And now they were wrapped around my thumb. I probably should have waited until they cleaned her off until I kissed her. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her to know that the first minute I saw her, I loved her. No one was going to take her away. She was ours. The one so many people had prayed for.

Our Molly Grace.

Molly means "Bitterness." Not a name that directly declared the goodness of God. It was just a name that always made me smile. Go ahead- try to say it without smiling. But the name was fitting. It was God's grace that was the remedy to my bitterness- the years of pain and recluse and blaming myself for my inability to be when God called me to be. His character was what taught me that I could trust Him with not only my future, but the future of my children.

His eye was on the sparrow and I know He cared for me. We held the proof in our hands.

Chapter twelve- in which God gives me a glimpse of the big picture

I think God knew that I was unraveling with being 7 months pregnant and caring for a 5 month and 23 month old. It was nice having my parents there to help me watch the kids when Justin was at work. I no longer had to worry about cooking meals and doing laundry. Plus, the insurance company ended up giving us a check that was more than it cost to put our house back together. We were able to purchase new carpet, a new kitchen countertop and backsplash, and new area rugs for the bed room and dining room. It was difficult to go back to living with my parents after running my own house now for so long, but we were so blessed. God ended up nesting my house better than I ever could.

We had Nino for eight wonderful weeks. While it was heart-breaking to say goodbye, I knew it was best for Josiah and our baby girl. Three of them (especially with one of them being Nino) would have been impossible. That little boy taught us many lessons that was crucial in preparing our hearts to lose Josiah.

1- There is no shortage of wonderful kids that need loving homes.

2- It is not difficult to fall in love with other children.

3- We can make a difference in the life of a child, even though he or she may be with us for a short amount of time.

4- God will put people in your life for a reason and for a season. His timing. His plan. His purpose. We need to trust that He knows what is for our greatest good and His greatest glory.

5- When I look back on the decision we made to invite Nino into our home, I am extremely grateful we had the opportunity to be in his life. I am not sad. I just feel lucky we were the ones God used to bless him with a safe, loving home. And he blessed us more than he will ever know.

I hope that's the way I will feel about Josiah when God sends him to his forever home. Not sad or remorseful- but happy that I was obediently in his life for the time God called me to be.

And now Nino will be prayed for everyday. Who knows how God is going to intervene when we seek His will for his life? He went to live with his biological father. We still miss him and I think about him often. But I reminisce and smile.

Josiah was still going for visitation every week. His parents were part of a program where they would go to The Family Life Center and take parenting classes along with their kids. It was an all day affair. I hated it. One benefit of this though was that the kids would go on a little school bus to the center, and when they would drop him off I would get to take a peek at Josiah's older brother, David. I would duck underneath the bus's window and pop up and play peek-a-boo with him until the bus driver got Josiah out of his car seat and handed him to me.. He would get a huge smile on his face and let out a big belly laugh.

David was an adorable little boy, and by looking at him, I could see exactly what Josiah would look like in 15 months. He looked strangely familiar. I always thought that it was only because he looked just like Josiah, but there was something more.

One day Justin and I were having a conversation about the people in our licensing classes we took in December 8 months earlier (read chapter 6). We laughed about the annoying woman who would take 15 minutes to answer every single question until even the woman who was teaching the class was rolling her eyes at us. We wondered how the couple was who adopted their niece. And we thought about the nice man who sat across from us who was adopting his grandson. Justin looked at me and asked, "What was Fred's grandson's name he was adopting...do you remember?"

"I think it was David." We both looked at each other, wide eyed. I bit my lip and counted on my fingers how old David would be now. He was 15 months older than Josiah.

Justin called up our case worker, Kristen, who also was the caseworker for Josiah's brother. "Would you be able to tell me the name of Talen's ;o) grandfather?" he asked.

"Fred." she said.

I couldn't believe it! Eight months earlier we were sitting across the table from Josiah's biological grandfather. I don't know why we didn't put the pieces together until now. It was as though God all of a sudden opened our eyes.

We were able to get his number from Kristen and Justin gave him a call. I remember how proud he was of his grandson David and how much he loved him. He must love Josiah just as much and wish he could see him. We were hoping that we could get together with his family so Josiah and David would get to know eachother more.

They were so excited to hear from us, but not as excited as we were! Two weeks before my due date, Fred, his wife Vita, and David came over to my parents house. What two amazing, giving people! We took pictures and talked for hours how blessed we felt to have Josiah in our life. (We were so careful to keep calling him Talen though.) :o) We arranged a time where Josiah would go over to Fred and Vita's house to spend some good quality time with his family.

Fred's sister was the woman who was going to adopt Josiah. If she was anything like Fred, it would definitely lessen the blow of losing him knowing how great he would be taken care of and how much he would be loved.

Justin and I got into foster care to give children a family who didn't have one. As I snapped pictures of Josiah with his grandfather and brother that night, I thought about how this was not a little boy who needed a family. He was already a part of one.

We would not be a family who would be adopting. It was their kind, generous, loving family who were willing to adopt us.

2-Chapter eleven- In which God loosens my grip by handing me more (Part 2)

Lesley (or Nino, as his parents nick-named him) was a Dominican little boy. He spoke no english but had an infectious smile and inquisitive spirit. I was very thankful that I had to take spanish in high school and college. I had about a 22 month old's vocabulary, so I could ask him if he wanted jugo, leche, o agua. We made it work. I quickly learned the difference between an immobile 4 month old and an almost-2 year old who never stopped moving and could lock himself in the bathroom. twice. To say that he was challenging would be inaccurate. Exhausting. Near- impossible. Patience-testing. Maybe that paints a closer picture. He did not like women (most likely because his abuser was a woman I think) but would be an angel when my husband was around. My forearms were covered in scratches and bruises from him testing his boundaries. Even with ever-growing circles under my eyes, I loved him like our own.

He quickly adjusted to life with gringos. We taught him how to count to ten and how to say grace before he ate. He was like a little parrot. This would be our lesson before each meal:

Us: "Dear God,"

Nino: "Diego,"

"Thank you for"

"five"

"Our food."

"food."

"Bless it to"

"Three"

"my body."

"body."

"Amen."

"Aaaaaameeeenn."

He would continually make us laugh. Although life was busy and difficult, having Nino was a blessing. I was too busy and distracted to even think about my pregnancy or if today was the day we were going to lose Josiah. I only had enough energy to make it through the day and none left over to waste worrying.

On one particularly trying day after struggling with Nino to change a diaper, and then chasing him to get his pants back on, he ran into my bedroom. All of a sudden his feet went out from under him and he hit his head on the floor. After drying tears and kissing boo boos, I saw a puddle of water on the floor. Then I looked at the ceiling. There was a steady stream of water trickling down from the bulging drywall overhead.

For months our air conditioner in the attic had been leaking and we didn't know it. When our house had been renovated in the 80's, someone had put sheets of plastic in between the drywall and insulation, blocking any moisture from soaking through to the wall. However, the plastic had also allowed the moisture to fester and fill the insulation and studs with mildew and mold.

As soon as Justin uncovered the array of colors hidden in our bedroom walls, I quickly packed up the kids and their clothes and toys and high-tailed it to my parents house so we wouldn't have to breath in the dangerous air. We had to call DYFS to let them know that the kids would need to be picked up at a different address for their weekly visitations. They flipped. They told us that they would need to remove the children from our care because we were no longer in an "approved home."

I just lost my house. Now I was going to lose my kids.

My heroic husband begged and pleaded for DYFS not to have to find another home for Josiah and Nino. They decided that they would allow us to get my parents' home temporarily approved. Crisis averted.

Atleast one crisis.

There was extensive water and mold damage in our bedroom wall and ceiling and the ceiling and wall of the downstairs living room. By the grace of God our homeowners' insurance covered the damage, but I was not a happy camper. All I wanted to do was "nest" and get ready for my baby that would be here in 2 months. And now I had no tree.

1-Chapter eleven- In which God loosens my grip by handing me more (Part 1)

The most difficult part about thinking about losing Josiah was not knowing if he would be going to a Christian home. Every time there would be a salvation message at church on Sunday I would cry and think, "What if he never hears this? God, how will he know You?" Above all else, I wanted to Josiah to grow up under the grace and admonition of the Lord, to make Godly choices in his life, and to reach his full potential under the influence of Godly friends and from wisdom from the Scriptures. I wanted his life to point others to Christ- to tell others that "God saves" and "God hears". I knew the kind of life God already saved him from. And the life I wanted him to be saved for was one where he lived with us and was taught who God was.

Weekly visits with his parents continued, and my pregnancy progressed. At 24 weeks along, God answered our prayers, and we found out that our baby girl's cyst went away all by itself, four weeks before doctors said that it would! Josiah continued to be a blessing as well. He was growing so quickly.

After our first miscarriage, one of the secretaries at our school gave us an adorable teddy bear. She told us that we could put it in our crib until God blessed us with our first child- then we could give it to him or her. Every month on the anniversary of Josiah's birthday, we would take a picture of him by the bear to show how much he was growing. The first picture was when he was 6 days old; after that we took it on the 19th of every month.

In June, we got another call from DYFS. Each time their number would come up on the caller ID, my heart would sink, thinking this would be the call that would tell us that Josiah would be taken away. That's not what it was. It was a call for another placement. It was for a 22 month old boy who was taken away from his mother due to abuse. The workers told us they had been calling resource homes for three hours and hadn't been able to find a placement for him.

"I'll call you right back," Justin told them. "I need to ask my wife."

With wide eyes I asked the details. It made no sense to even consider it. I was six months pregnant with a four month old baby. I was just getting used to the routine of my new life as a mother and mother-to-be. I was at high-risk for preterm labor. I shouldn't add any more stress to my life. Still, Justin and I prayed that God would reveal His will to us.

Later that night I called my mom to ask her if we could borrow her booster seat. "Why do you need it?" she asked. "Because you're getting another foster grandson." I said. We were absolutely insane, but I'd rather be thought crazy and be obedient than have an easy life and miss out on what God was going to reveal about Himself yet again.

Chapter ten- In which God blesses abundantly and stretches my faith once again

To say that Josiah was a good baby would be an understatement. You know how the Bible says that we are entertaining angels without knowing it? I'm fully convinced that he is one.

The more foster parents we talked to, the more we realized what an unusual situation this was. People were on the waiting list for years to get a new born baby, let alone a healthy full-term baby that wasn't addicted to drugs or had fetal-alcohol syndrome. We were the first foster home DYFS had called for this case. And we said yes. I felt so blessed.

My school gave me three weeks off to stay home and bond with my little boy. It didn't take long. After that, they let me come in for three full days and 2 half days a week. On the half days, I would bring him into school and Josiah would sleep in his stroller while I taught my art classes. He never cried, not even when he was hungry. He would scrunch his face and fuss a little, but I would just scoop him up, hold him close, and he would stop. All of my students absolutely loved him. I'm so glad they could see how good God was to us after they knew everything we had went through to start a family. I hope that some of them will want to become foster parents because of Josiah. Who knows?

Every week I would have to send Josiah to go to visitation with his parents. It killed me. I would cry the entire morning until his transportation would come. I always felt God's presence with me when they would pull into the driveway though. I would let his driver into our home and hand them my little boy and a bag packed full of diapers, a bottle, a book and some toys. I don't know if his parents ever read to him or played with him at the visits, but I always imagined they did, and it made me feel better. He would arrive home a few hours later and it was always my absolute favorite time of the week because I knew it would be another whole seven days until we would have to be separated again.

On my fifth month of pregnancy, we went for another ultrasound of our baby. I loved looking at people's reactions when they saw we were bringing in a 1 month old baby along with my ever-growing tummy. "God Bless you," they would say when we explained our situation. And then I would get to tell him how much He really did.

My mom and Justin and Josiah and I went to the appointment. I had never gotten this far in a pregnancy before and I was so excited to be able to find out what we would be having in four short months. I didn't have that scared feeling I usually did for ultrasound appointments. I would just look over at Josiah and feel like we had our baby. This one would be the cherry on top.

"IT'S A GIRL!" she said as she scanned the ultrasound over my abdomen.

Josiah at one month old had a sister! I couldn't believe that God had blessed us with a daughter and a son in less than one month. However, my celebration was short-lived.

The ultrasound technician continued to scan the length of the femur, and distance between the eyes, and examine her kidneys... it took almost an hour and a half to measure everything she needed. When it came to scanning the brain, the ultrasound technician took her time. "Do you see something?" I asked. "We'll just let the doctor take a look." she said without looking at me. My heart sank.

I heard that answer before. Technicians got to show you all the fun stuff...they let the doctors tell you the bad news.

We went into the "back office" which is never a fun place to go. That's where they send in the parents to get bad news. The Hobbit sat at his desk. The "Hobbit" was a short squatty fat man who had delivered the news we had lost baby #1. He called it "a tissue" at the time. I was not a fan of him.

He told us that our baby girl had something called a corioplexis cyst on her brain. It was only found in .3-.4% of all pregnancies. Lucky us. It was a marker for a fatal disease called Trisome 18. One of two things could happen- either it would go away by itself in a few weeks and be nothing, or it was fatal and our daughter wouldn't live past her first few days. Great options. Thanks.

Lots of birds flew overhead as we drove home that day. All I could think of was the cardinal and hear God's voice say, "If my eye is on the sparrow, how much more do I care for you?"

Every month we would get a visit from our case worker, Kristen, and every month we would hear how plans were moving for him to be transfered to Georgia. His great-aunt had been a foster mother before, they told us, so it shouldn't take too long for the paperwork to go through.

Each time they would leave, I would cry as I would imagine having to hand him over to the case worker and watch her drive away with that sweet baby boy. It was devastating. I would try to tell myself that I should try not to get upset for the sake of my little girl. I would convince myself that I need to enjoy every moment I had with Josiah as long as he was here. He deserved to have a mother and father who loved him like he was never leaving. Worrying, I told myself, wasn't making tomorrow any easier, it was just sucking all of the joy out of today. Josiah deserved better than that. Our little girl deserved better than that.

And God said, "Do you believe that I will work all things out for your greatest good and My greatest glory? Will you trust me with the lives of your children?"

I said, "Today I will, God. But can you ask me again tomorrow?"

Chapter nine- In which God says, "See?" and I exhale

"Does this look like an outfit that a mom would wear?" I asked Justin on Monday morning. "I know we're going to take a lot of pictures today, and I want to look like a mom in the pictures."

He laughed at me and said I looked fine.

We pulled up to Shore Memorial Hospital in Somers Point at around 2:00 on Monday afternoon. With the car seat all strapped in in the backseat and my diaper bag in tote, we braced ourselves for the windy March weather and walked inside of the automatic sliding doors. We sat which seemed like for hours in the foyer, waiting for the DYFS workers to meet us there. (In actuality it was probably ten minutes, but it seemed like FOREVER!) We checked into the front desk and received passes to go up to the maternity floor.

I couldn't stand still in the elevator. I was gushing and bubbly and talking about how excited we were. We rounded the corner into the nursery and saw about five plastic cribs filled with babies wrapped up like sausages.

"Which one is it?"

"He's right here," the nurse said proudly as if she was showing off her own baby.

Can we just talk about moments in your life that will forever be freeze-framed in your mind? This was definitely one of them. He had thick black hair and chubby cheeks and an adorable pudgy nose. He was sleeping peacefully. I had the feeling of wanting to scoop him up in my arms and tell him how much we loved him, how fervently we had prayed for him, how much pain we had to go through to get to this point, but how it all seemed worth it now. I felt dizzy.

For a few seconds everything tunneled. My husband told the nurse how I was four months pregnant and that this was our first foster baby. I had to sit down. I felt like I was going to pass out- half from exhaustion, half from elation. The nurse got me a cup of juice. I felt ridiculous, but I didn't care.

The nurse patiently went through the discharge routine with us. She showed us how to change his clothes and diaper, how to bathe him, feed him, burp him. I felt equipped for the task. All that reading and stressing the days prior, and all of it seemed so natural- it just took a little bit of common sense.

The DYFS workers met us again in the nursery. As we were walking out of the hospital, they gave us the bad news. The parents changed their mind. They found a great-aunt who lived in Georgia that was going to take the baby. They named him already. Talen Lee. Justin and I looked at eachother and scrunched our noses. I felt that same sick feeling I got in those cold, dark ultrasound rooms. Like God was giving us a child again and then going to take it away.

They said, however, that inter-state adoptions take a long time. With fost-adopt babies things change a lot, they said. That it happens all the time that they find a long-lost relative who is willing to take a baby and that most of the time it falls through.

"So what would you say are the chances of us getting to keep him?" I asked.

"Pretty good. I'd say 95%."

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was my son in my heart already. The one I had prayed for for so long.

I sat next to him in the car seat all the way home while Justin drove and asked, "What's he doing now?"

"Sleeping."

"What about now?"

"Sleeping."

I took a lot of pictures of him on my camera phone and sent it to my sisters. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"What about the name?" Justin asked me. "I guess we have to call him Talen."

"You know," I said, "I feel so strongly that Josiah was the name that God gave you to give to him. I don't care what DYFS says. In our home, as long as he's with us, I think we should call him the name God gave you."

He was our Josiah. God saves.

But he would also be my Samuel, like Hannah's son in the Bible, that I would have to give over to God before He would bless us with other children.

"I just want to keep my baby," I said to God.

And God said, "I would rather you know who I am."

Chapter eight- In which God saves him and hears us

It was a crazy Friday at school, Fine Arts Day- with students from 6 schools running around the building competing in everything from oil painting and preaching to oboe solos and oration. I was in the science room, which was the epicenter for all things art- drawings, paintings, sewing projects, printmaking, photography, woodworking, crafts, etc. I was in charge of watching all of the judges painstakingly give points to each project.

We had been waiting (not very patiently) for our first call from DYFS. We had been licensed for about a month to take in 1-3 kids ages infant to 3. I was so excited. We had bunk beds, a pack of diapers in sizes 1-4, and one each outfit for boys and girls sizes 12 months to 3T. We were so prepared, I thought. We got a call few weeks ago for a baby, a three year old, and a four year old set of siblings. I'm glad Justin got the call. I would have said yes and found a way to made it work. But knowing I was pregnant, that would have already made our family too large for the car we had, so he sadly had to turn it down. So we waited and waited for another call.

I will never forget the look of excitement on Justin's face when he came in the science room to tell me the news.

"DYFS called," he said. "There's a new born baby. No drugs. No alcohol. Prenatal care. Full term. Bi-racial. And will be up for adoption soon."

"Boy or girl? Boy or girl?" I scrambled the words out.

"Boy."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them I would talk to you and call them right back."

"Are you crazy?!?!? Call them back! You didn't have to ask me! You know what I'd say!"

"Megan," Justin said patiently, "Let's go pray about it."

We went outside of the school and bowed our heads by the flag pole. After seeking the Lord's direction and will for our family we both lifted our heads at the same time and said, "I feel like it's a 'yes'."

After getting back on the phone with DYFS Justin got more details. The family wasn't mentally capable of handling a baby. There is a history of Turret's syndrome and a few other minor mental issues. The parents wanted an open adoption where they would receive pictures and get to see him a couple of times a year. And...we would get to name him when we picked him up from the hospital on Monday.

I was over-the-moon excited. and then I got nervous.

We didn't even have a crib! All of a sudden I realized...I don't know how to take care of a newborn!!! I frantically was googling "newborn care" and reading "What to Expect the First Year" as fast as my eyes could scan the pages. Most people had 9 months to get ready for a baby, I had 48 hours to nest! On Saturday Justin, my mom, and my best childhood friend Chrissy and I went to Target and bought the entire baby section. Chrissy called her sister-in-law who was over her baby stage in life, and she picked up a huge tupperware container of clothes, a car seat, a swing, a stroller, bottles, and baby-proofing nick-nacks. In less than 24 hours I felt I had been given a baby shower. God was so good. The day was filled with putting together a crib and washing and putting away little boy outfits in drawers.

Justin and I were so busy and exhausted, we went to pick up dinner. In the parking lot of the restaurant I asked him, "Have you thought about any names?"

"I don't know why," he said, "But I like the name Josiah. I just feel like that's the name God wants us to give him."

"I like the name Samuel for a middle name," I said.

While Justin was in the restaurant gettting our dinner, I used his iPhone to go on the internet and look up the meanings of the names.

Josiah- "God will save."

Samuel- "God hears."

I wanted our baby to forever attest to the goodness of God and to have his life be a testimony of how faithful God is to those that love Him. It was the perfect name. God saved him. God heard us.

I couldn't wait to meet him.

March 23, 2009 I would become a mom.

Chapter seven- In which God sends a bird and I walk through every open door

In fourth grade I went through a bird phase. (right between my monkey and dog phase) I loved watching birds come to our many bird feeders I would make out of milk jugs. I remember sitting for hours with binoculars at my window and my bird book by my side. My dad would teach me all the names of the species and how to identify the sounds each would make. We would sit on the back porch after dinner in the summer and he would teach me how to call to the bob white and whippoorwill. It seemed like magic when they would call back when we would whistle to them.

And there was something about the colors. New Jersey has very brown and gray winters. With not a lot of snow, bare trees, and cloudy days it can be a dismal and depressing time of the year. But somehow the birds God would send our way were sun spots on dreary days. The bright yellow of the goldfinch and that peachy color right underneath the wings of the tufted titmouse. The crimson red of the male cardinal and the orangey-red part of the beak of his partner, the deep blue cerulean of the blue jay.

(Something tells me this may have been the reason I didn't have a lot of friends as a child. I may or may not have been a bit of a weirdo. Praise the Lord Justin didn't know me until I was 14!)

Then in the summer before I went to eighth grade, "Sister Act 2" came out. My sisters and I were obsessed with the movie. We got the soundtrack and would belt it out during car rides. My favorite song was "His Eye is on the Sparrow," and I sang it for my eighth grade graduation.

When Justin and I finally got our house, I couldn't wait to put up bird feeders, and Justin got me a bird bath for mother's day during my second pregnancy. (Something I had wanted for a while.)

All this to say I like birds. (Which would somewhat explain why I was watching birds and prayed my "cardinal prayer." Make sure to read part 4.)

In January of 2009 I took another pregnancy test and it was positive. Baby number 5. At the time doctors told me that I had a 40% chance of actually getting past the first trimester, and if I did, it would be a high risk pregnancy because of my condition, and there was a good chance I would be delivering early. That's dumb, I thought. If God wants this baby born, this baby has a 100% chance, and if He doesn't, it's 0%. I love how doctors think they know what they're talking about.

I called the fertility clinic (they monitor the pregnancy for the first 8 weeks) and they told me to come in for blood work. Results showed my hsg levels were good, and as they continued to take and test more blood, the numbers doubled every 48 hours. After a few weeks of my levels doubling, doubling and doubling again, I had my first ultrasound.

I hate ultrasounds. Let it be known.

"The baby should be 5 weeks along at this point," they said. As they were examining, I watched the black and white screen, looking for that flicker of a heartbeat and waiting for the "swoosh-swoosh-swoosh" sound. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I got that sick feeling in my stomach again. Not again, God. Please.

"There are two possibilities," the doctor spoke in a thick middle-eastern accent. "Either you are one week earlier than you think you are, or there is no baby. Come back next week for more bloodwork, and we'll see." Great options. I was never early. I could tell you the exact day I got pregnant. I wanted to punch him. He printed out a picture of my nothingness and handed it to me. Thanks a lot. Another reminder of how empty I am and how pregnant I'm not.

I was proud of myself that I choked down tears until I got out of the building. It was a cold, gray, dreary New Jersey winter day. It made sense that the sun wouldn't shine on a day like today. I buckled my seatbelt, threw the ultrasound picture in the glove compartment, and we pulled out of the parking lot. As we approached the end of the driveway, my eye caught a glimpse of color in my world of encroaching gray.

The thicket across the street was covered in bright red cardinals.

I felt God say, "If my eye is on the sparrow, how much more do I care for you?"

I pushed that silly prayer aside. It was the prayer that I prayed nine months ago. The picture showed nothing. No baby. I wasn't getting my hopes up.

I got my blood work done again on a Friday. The office said they would call Saturday morning to tell me my results. I could barely sleep that night and I held the phone in my hand all morning. I wasn't doing anything until they called. I wasn't going to eat, get dressed, or start my day until the phone rang. It was 1:00 and I looked at Justin, "Didn't they say they were only open in the morning on Saturdays?" "Yes," he said with sad eyes not wanting to disappoint me. I called about 7 times, hearing the recorded voice on the other side reading their office hours. It was closed. I figured they would have called if it was good news.

I got up from the couch and took a shower. I was in the bathroom for a long time, sobbing uncontrollably, the window fogged up from the cold stale air outside and the hot steam of the water that was running for longer than it should. "Why, God, do I have to do this again?" I prayed. Chuckling to myself I through my tears I said, "Hey God...do you want to send me a cardinal to show me the baby's going to be ok?"

I cleared a small circle of condensation off of the bathroom window with the sleeve of my bathrobe. As I peered through it I could see my birdbath. Just as I let the words leave my lips, a small brown female cardinal landed on it. "No God," I said,"not good enough. A bright red male. That's what I need to see." No sooner had I prayed those words that a male chased the female away and landed on the exact spot she was perched a moment ago.

Justin knocked on the door with the phone in his hand.

"Levels look good, Laura," they said. "Come in Monday for another ultrasound and you will be able to see your baby."

They were right. The ultrasound revealed two tiny flickering pixels on the screen. I finally knew that this was the one God was waiting to give us. "I'll keep walking through every open door until I finally become a mom," I told God.

Three months later after the ultrasound, after my first trimester was over, we got our call for our first foster child placement.

God never closed any doors this time.

Chapter six- In which God says, "Soon" and I get really excited

It was during this time that I started my "Psalms Illustrated" journal. (see Introduction) I couldn't wait to see how God was going to reveal Himself to me next. Everyday was the day I might find out why I had to have two miscarriages to become who I was supposed to be. I loved going through Psalms chapter by chapter and finding out who God was, and being able to relate his character to tangible things like a shield, rock, fortress, or hiding place.

Still, I felt singed. I was reclusive. I hated being around women with babies. There was not an isle at Target or a row of people at church or a check out line in the grocery store that was void of women with swollen stomachs that held the promise of new life. Seeing them made me feel so empty, so incapable of being who I knew in my heart I was supposed to be. Most married women get pregnant and have babies. I wanted to be one of them.

No one knew what to say to me and I hated making people uncomfortable. Some people would say things like, "I knew a lady once who had 7 miscarriages- then she had 2 sets of twins!" Good for her, I'd think. Why don't you rub it in? Some people would ignore me, which felt worse. Mostly I just wanted to know that people were praying for me. That comforted me.

We had our third miscarriage in July of 2008. I was thankful that the baby never was old enough to have an ultrasound taken of it. Just one more picture to come across one day and cry over. It hurt to lose this one, but not as much as the first two. Maybe it was because I guarded my heart a little more and tried not to get my hopes up. In any case, the loss of this third one made me get proactive. My older sister, Amy, was going through the foster care system in South Carolina to adopt a child of her own. She kept nudging me for the past year to get my paperwork going to work on the adoption process myself. I finally felt ready. If God wasn't going to bless me with a child of my own, I knew there were plenty of children who needed a loving mother. And I was going to be one of them. I looked up the Department of Youth and Family Services of New Jersey online, and sent an email saying I was interested in becoming a foster parent. We got our first phone call in October 2008 and began the long arduous process of paperwork, classes, getting fingerprints done, home inspections, and interviews.

At the same time, Justin and I went to an infertility clinic to see what may be going wrong with our growing list of unborn babies. I told God I was going to walk through every open door to become a mother until He closed one. Tests results concluded that I had a unicoruate uterus, a condition that meant I only had half of a normal-sized womb. Chances were very slim that even if I got pregnant, it would be likely I could carry a baby to term. I was heartbroken. But at the same time excited to be a foster parent.

"What if you get pregnant again?" my mom asked. "Do you still want to be a foster parent?"

"I'm not letting pregnancy stop me from being a mom," I said. Strange statement, but true.

Justin and I took parenting classes in December 2008. There were five other people in the class, four of us becoming fost-adopt parents, and three who were doing kinship care, in which they were adopting a family member. There was a man named Fred there who was working on adopting his eleven month old grandson, David. I remember at one point in the class he took out his cell phone and passed it around to show the rest of the class how adorable he was. He really was. Three classes done and done. January would be our home inspection, February our interviews and then we just had to wait for the call for a child who would be needing a home!

I prayed that the experience of becoming a foster mom would bring me closer to the person God had created me to be. Seeking God's character in all of my circumstances now, I prayed that through this experience He would teach me more about Himself.

In December we lost baby number four. I almost didn't care. I was going to be a mom soon. Finally.

Chapter five- in which God says, "Be still" and I finally say nothing

On the night before my D&C, right after I had told God to leave me alone, I had a dream. (Now, I'm not one of those freaky-deaky people that have visions. I'm not a weirdo. I promise.) But this was a very real and very vivid dream- one that God would use to get my attention because I wouldn't listen any other way.


I was sitting by a river. I felt the cool mist rising from the water and hitting my face, hear the water as it gently licked the smooth river rocks, and smell the crisp morning air. I felt comfortable and safe. Something was compelling me to dip my feet into the water, but I pushed the feeling aside, and told myself that I just wanted to watch for a while. After a few minutes, a man appeared, wading up to his knees in the river. It was as if he knew this stream would take him to his destination, but he was still enjoying every step of his journey as he looked down and watched the clear water pass over his toes. He slowly turned his head, just as content to look at me as the water. He smiled, and said with kind eyes, "Megan, what makes you glad?"

"Well, a lot of things make me happy," I said. "I love my husband, and my family. My friends, my talents, my house. My sisters, my education...." and I talked and talked and talked, listing everything in my life that had blessed me.

"Megan," He said patiently, "If you put your happiness in people and circumstances, when they change, you're not going to be happy anymore."

"Well," I said indignantly, "What am I supposed to be happy about?"

He smiled and in a voice that sounded like it was both spoken and whispered at the same time said, ""The character of God. Because it never changes."


I woke up from the dream the second after those chilling words were uttered. I was angry. "God, I told you I didn't want to talk to you anymore." He must of smiled at me. He patiently waited until I was ready to speak to me again.

I tried and tried and tried to forget about the dream, attempting to shove in into the corners of my mind where I couldn't recall every last detail. But it wouldn't go away. Over and over the word that kept repeating itself was the word, "Glad." Why did He use that word, I thought. "Megan, what makes you glad?" he said. Why not "happy"? Why not "feel blessed"? Or "what do you love?" What was it about that one word that was unsettling? "Go away, thoughts," I said. "It doesn't matter. It was just a stupid dream."

Finally, feeling so overcome by wanting so badly to learn why this may have happened to me once again, wanting a reason, an explanation, I gave in. I went to my Bible. Before my dream, I told God I wasn't going to read it ever again. He must have smiled. He knew exactly what He was doing.

I went to the back of my Bible- the concordance -and found the word "glad." The first verse that was listed was Psalm 46:4. It reads,

"There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the place where the most high dwells."

(Are you getting God-bumps yet? Because I totally did when I read the verse.) The footnotes in my study Bible said that the river represents innumerable blessings that God allows in your life.

It made me think about the word glad and what it means. When used in context, it means "to be happy now for something that happened in the past." As in: "I'm glad you came. I'm glad you said that, etc." And it hit me. There would come a day when I would be glad that this happened to me. It wasn't going to be anytime in the near future, I knew that. But one day, I was going to look back at my life and be glad that I lost this baby. God was going to use it somehow to bring glory to Himself. I didn't know how. And I thought, "Maybe this baby would not have lived, and God knew that I wouldn't have been able to lose it later." And I was thankful for what God may have saved me from. And then I thought, "The children that I will have later will only be here because this one child isn't." And then I was thankful for what God saved me for. And then I said to God, "Thank you for loving me, for knowing what is best. If you choose not to bless me with children, I'm glad that atleast I know that I am your child." And then I was thankful that God saved me at all.

Gladness: Being thankful for what God saved you from.

Hope: Being thankful for what God saved you for.

Peace: Being thankful that God saved you at all.

We found out that we had lost a little girl. We named her Maggie which means "a pearl." She was our pearl of great price. The one who gave her life so that others could live. I can't wait to meet her. She has blond hair and blue eyes. I know that because I had a dream that she was playing and picking flowers with birds flying overhead

near a river.

Chapter four- In which God says, "Trust Me" and I roll my eyes

My second pregnancy was rough. I was sick all of the time and tired beyond all reason. It was the kind of tired when you feel like all of your marrow has been sucked out of you, and your brain can never find the right word you want your mouth to say. So you say things like..."can you close the glass thing with the screen that's letting all the air in the house? You know...the square thingy that's in the wall.." I hated the smell of popcorn and made Justin eat it outside. Everyone told me that being sick was a good thing- that all the hormone levels were where they were supposed to be. I said to myself, "this better be worth it this time. If I have to go through this all over again for no reason, I'm going to be really upset."

We didn't tell anyone for a month or so. Ultrasounds were terrible to go to. I would get that sick feeling in my stomach thinking something was going to go wrong again. We had a few scares, but time after time, the ultrasounds would show that little kidney bean of a baby was moving her little arm buds and that swooshing heartbeat sound was so strong. I praised God for His goodness to us. For allowing us to get pregnant again so quickly, and for teaching me to trust His perfect timing. I prayed that He would give us the child He knew we so desperately wanted. It was a good lesson to lose the first and know that it happened because THIS was the child He wanted to bless us with.

Lesson learned, God. I'm good now. I trust you. I get it. You're sovereign, I'm not. You know what's best for me, I don't. I know You want me to be a mother. I'll eat right, get plenty of sleep, I'll do what the doctor says and start taking care of this baby you've given me even now. Just let me keep it. Please. I trust you to work all things out for good because I love you and I'm serving you. Don't take this one away again. I don't think I could handle losing another one.

And God said, "Do you trust me? Do you really believe I will work all things out for your greatest good and My greatest glory?"

I said, "Yes, but I want my baby."

He said, "I'd rather you know who I am."

I started bleeding a little bit and my doctor put me on bedrest for 4 weeks until my first trimester was over. Time went by very slowly. I spent a lot of time outside on my porch swing watching birds at my bird feeder. There was something reassuring knowing that these small creatures depended on me somehow. I imagined sitting out there on the porch swing with my baby, rocking back and forth and teaching him or her about all of the names of the birds we would watch together. One day when I was praying outside I said to God, "if everything is going to be ok with this baby, could you send me a cardinal?" (The reason I prayed this was because cardinals were the most common bird I saw.) I waited for an hour and a half and not one cardinal came to my bird feeder or flew overhead. Gold finches, bluejays, sparrows, chickadees, and tuffted titmouses, but no cardinals.

I started bleeding that night, but I didn't tell anyone. I had another ultrasound to go to in a week, which would tell me how silly my prayer was.

But again, in the cold dark ultrasound room I heard the words, "Unfortunately, I don't have good news to tell you...."

I was 14 weeks along. I thought I made it past that scary first trimester when most miscarriages happen, but I didn't. My baby was dead. Another hope crushed. I wanted nothing to do with God or His promises anymore. I was angry. There was no one else to blame but Him. "Leave me alone," I prayed. "There is nothing more I can learn this time that I didn't learn last time. I'm tired. I'm lonely. If you were to take me to Heaven tonight, I'd be okay with it. I just want my babies. I'm tired of being an object lesson to other people. Just leave me alone please."

God didn't answer any of my requests. He loved me too much. And He had better plans than I did.

Chapter three- In which God says "wait longer" and I say, "You must not love me."

Justin was teaching 9th grade boys Bible the 2007-2008 school year. One of his students was telling him about the play he was in that fall about George Mueller, a great man of faith who opened the very first orphanages in England. The boy was telling him about how George Mueller prayed for everything- a building, food, workers- and God would supply everything they asked for. On the day that they finally opened the orphanage, they thought that their doors would be flooded with orphans, because there had never been orphanages in that country before. However, hours passed that first day, and there were no children who came. Stunned, they looked around and asked each other, "Did you pray for kids?" None of them had prayed for children! So they started praying and in they came by the dozens! The boy looked at my husband and said, "It reminded me of you and Mrs. Benson." "Why is that?" my husband asked. "It just struck me that you would pray for everything, but would forget that one thing," he said.

He didn't know at the time that we had been trying to start a family for the past six months, but we had never gone to the Lord to ask Him to bless us with children. We figured it would happen in His time, but never actually went to Him and asked. When Justin told me the story, I cried and we prayed together.

The next month we were staring at a positive pregnancy test.

I was so excited that it was finally time to start my family. The minute we found out, I called everyone I knew. We told all of the kids at school and our basketball girls who screamed and squealed and jumped up and down. They were so excited for us. The next two months were filled with planning and looking at baby names and thinking how our lives would change. The baby was due July 21, 2008. A few days before Justin's birthday- what a gift it would be! Our first ultrasound was a thrilling experience. Seeing that little heartbeat was so exciting- that little flicker on the screen knowing that life was growing inside of me.

On December 8th, I started bleeding, knowing something was wrong and praying that it wasn't. Another ultrasound revealed that that little life God had blessed us with had gone to be with Him. I was beyond disappointed. I've never experienced pain like that- where you have to tell yourself to breathe your next breath and hope that somehow your lungs will fill with air. It was hard for Justin, who didn't know how to console me.

The next few weeks were like walking through fog. I could see the look of disappointment on my students' faces who didn't know what to say to me. I choked down tears trying to answer questions from my kindergarteners like, "How do you LOSE a baby? I thought it was in your tummy." "God loved it so much, He just couldn't wait to have the baby with Him in heaven," I said, but I didn't believe it. This did not seem like the action of a loving God. How could He let this happen? I waited for His perfect timing. I had the job He wanted me to have, I was living in the house He wanted me to live in, married to the man He wanted me married to, serving in the church He wanted me to serve in. This was the only thing I wanted for myself. Why would God give me something, then take it away? Why did He even allow me get pregnant in the first place if He knew this was going to happen?

Christmas that year seemed cruel- to have to celebrate a Baby knowing that next Christmas I probably still wouldn't have one myself. Doctors said that we were young and we had plenty of time to have more kids. I didn't want more kids, I thought. I wanted the one I lost. The minute doctors said we could try again, we did.

Another positive pregnancy test. Smiles. Tears. Fear. Hope. Laughing. Crying. Praying. Lips sealed this time. Due November 21st- my birthday. what a gift it would be!

Chapter two- In which God says, "wait" and I cross my arms, furrow my brow and say, "humph."

Justin is a kind, compassionate, generous, helpful man who puts me second only to God. I couldn't wait to be his wife, not just because I'd been dating forever and was ready to move onto the next phase of my life, but because I knew that if I spent enough time with him, his Godliness would rub off on me and I would be more conformed to the image of Christ if I were to walk life's adventures alongside of him. I knew he would be the kind of father to my children that I always wanted for myself. And he loved children just as much as I did. Man of my dreams. Check.



Right after we got married, we bought a small 2-bedroom condo about twenty minutes away from both of our parents. It was such a cute quaint little place- with a fireplace and balcony and a galley kitchen. We made a loft in the second bedroom and below it I set up a little art studio. I always imagined the day when I'd put all my art stuff in storage and set up a crib in that little room. The condo was a perfect size. Big enough to spread out and have my own space for things, but small enough to tidy-up in about a half an hour. Justin was teaching in a Christian school and I was an aide in a 5 to 8 year old special needs classroom. I loved my job- taking care of special needs kids was so much fun. A lesson in learning to love "the least of these" and putting my own comforts aside to take care of their daily needs such as feeding and diapering.


After a year and a half or so, I approached Justin about wanting to start a family. "I'm ready to go on maternity leave," I said. "Having kids will be a good break from working, and I just can't wait to be a mom." Justin didn't think that was a good reason to have kids. He greatly protested after convincing me that we didn't have enough money to buy a house and we needed a house before we could start filling a home with kids. My mom said that I should work on having a "career" and not just a "job" before I had kids so when they went to school, I would have a good source of income.

So that was the direction I started praying in. The only thing I wanted besides children was to be an art teacher and live in Port Republic where I had grown up. Those two prayer requests seemed an impossibility because 1- I did not have a teaching certificate, only an art degree, and 2- houses in Port Republic were so far beyond what we could possibly afford it seemed ridiculous to daydream about it considering my meager salary and the Christian school salary that Justin was being paid. Still I prayed. God said , "just wait."

Two years before we got married, my parents were driving down their street and there was a For Sale sign on the house on the corner. "We need to buy that house," my dad said to my mom. "I don't want another house," she said. "I have a house." "Megan and Justin might need a house someday." he said unbeknownst to me. "We can subdivide the land, and they can build one." They tried to subdivide their 55 acres that they now owned, but between Wetlands, the Pinelands Commission, and having endangered species on the property there wasn't a single acre of buildable land.

After two and a half years of marriage my mom approached me and said, "Look, your father and I bought a house down the street a few years ago." Since then they had been renting it out. "I was going to sell it to have money for my retirement one day, but I would rather have grandchildren living close to me. I will sell it to you for the amount I paid for it five years ago." It was a cute yellow farm house built in the 1850's surrounded by 20 acres of land. I could not believe it! It seemed impossible. We sold our condo for a $40,000 profit and bought the house from my parents for a fraction of what it should have cost us. The mortgage payments and taxes on the house were just a little more than our mortgage on the condo and the condo fee was! God was awesome. He provided. House of my dreams. Check.

Right before we sold the condo the headmaster of my high school (The Pilgrim Academy) approached Justin and said they were trying to find an art teacher for the following school year, and to ask and see if I was interested. After talking with him, I told him that I only had a degree in art, not a teaching certificate. He said that the school would be willing to work with me and that I could take certification classes after school during my first year of teaching. I was elated. God is good. Career of my dreams. Check.



Justin and I worked at Pilgrim together for three years. We coached our varsity girls basketball team together, served in our church's children's ministry together. I absolutely loved teaching- talking about God and art- the most amazing thing ever. It was April 2007 and the timing FINALLY seemed perfect to finally start a family. God said, "just wait."

I wish I could say I did that patiently, but I didn't.

Chapter one- In which God gives me the need to nurture and I tell Him my plans

God has been teaching me so much about His character lately. Not just in the Psalms- but through illustrating his character I've read in the Psalms in my own life. I wanted to be sure to have this account written down somewhere, so I’m going to take a little break from sharing my drawings, and illustrate who God has become in my life in a few installments of stories. When I stared to write this down, I was surprised to see where God actually began the story- so much longer ago than I had originally thought. So here goes...

I am amazed by God’s goodness, grateful that he doesn’t always answer my prayer, and satisfied knowing that when I am obedient, He pours out innumerable blessings into my life and to those who are around me.


The beginning of this story starts long ago when God impressed upon my life that I wanted to be a mom. First and foremost, I had the world’s most amazing mother and I wanted to be just like her. When my two sisters and I would ask her, “Why did you marry dad?” she would answer, “so I could have you, of course!”

That gave me the impression at a very early age that the only reason you got married was so you could have children! That’s what I wanted to do- to grow up and have kids and be like my mother.

When we were young, my family did not have a lot of money, and my mom was determined to give us our own dolls for Christmas one year. She couldn't afford to buy us dolls, nor did she have money to buy white fabric. The only material she had at the time was was yellow and brown. So she made my older sister Amy an asian doll and I got an african doll. They were beautifully crafted with embroidered faces and thick black yarn for their hair. It was my most favorite doll. I named her Marie. I don’t have a lot of memories of playing with dolls other than her. With knowing I couldn’t pretend that she was actually my baby and probably watching Annie too many times than I can count, I used to play “orphanage” with her where I would rescue her from a life of living with a bunch of mean girls and would take her home to be my own. Without knowing it, I think this is the most wonderful doll my mom could have given me. What a lesson in compassion and generosity to learn that you can love a person that doesn’t look like you! My mom would teach us how to dress and hold them, how to swaddle them in blankets, and how to kiss and tuck them in at night. I really think this is where my desire to be a mom came from...and quite prophetic that Amy and I would be two people who would take in kids from the foster care system one day.

Growing up I always had the need to mother something. I was obsessed with taking care of living things and the list of pets that I owned contains the following: dogs, cats, fish, finches, a cockatiel, a guinea pig, a lizard, a grow-a-frog (you know, the mail-order tadpole you get in this rectangular cube of a tank and you watch it grow into a frog), rabbits, a pony named Daisy, an iguana (which actually belonged to my sister Robin, but I’m going to count it anyway), I hatched chicks in my bedroom and raised them in my bathroom, and two horses. I was a 4-H girl and just loved knowing that I was in charge of taking care of something that depended on me.


I was always the mother of the group too. I can clearly remember playing “family” on the playground in first grade, and I would always be chosen to play the role of mom. In college, I always had the dorm room that people would come to when then needed a study break. They would be greeted with a cup of tea and good conversation. I just loved taking care of people and knowing their needs were met. I also found a family in college that had 9 kids in it- ages infant to 15. Instead of going out on dates sometimes in college, my then-boyfriend Justin and I would take seven of the kids out for a swim in the college pool and out for ice cream. I just couldn’t wait to get married and have kids. It was my calling in life.

Still, I knew I had to be somewhat patient. It was the steadfast rule in my house that we had to graduate from college before we got married or my parents would not pay for college. When I was in eighth grade, my mother was my was my Sunday School teacher and she asked us to draw a picture of ourselves in 10 years. I was 13 at the time. I drew a picture of myself with a graduation cap and a HUGE gown and wrote the date June 15, 2004 underneath the picture. My mom looked at it and said, "Megan, why did you draw yourself so fat?" I said, "Mom- I'm not fat. I'm wearing my wedding gown underneath my cap and gown. That way, I can go from my graduation right to my wedding ceremony and not waste any time!"

I met my husband-to-be the following year in high school, dated for 7 and a half years and got married a month after I graduated college. I didn't quite have my gradu-wedding like I had planned, but it was close. Justin and I got married June 18, 2004. I don't mess around. I needed to get married before I became a mother.

Psalm Sixteen: My Cup is Full

"Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge. I said to the LORD, "You are my LORD, apart from you I have no good thing." v.1-2
"Lord you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." v. 5-6


Dear God, we will bear much fruit if we remain steadfast in the safety of Your Word.

NIV note in my Bible says, "The cup refers to what the host offers to his guests to drink. To the godly God offers a cup of blessing."

The three things the psalmist enjoys is
*Safety and protection now
*blessing during life
*an eternal inheritance to come

Psalm Fifteen: Getting to the Holy Hill

"LORD, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?

He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from his heart and has no slander on his tongue. Who does his neighbor no wrong and casts no slur on his fellowman, who despises a vile man, but honors those who fear the LORD. Who keeps his oath even when it hurts. Who lends his money without usery and does not accept a bribe against the innocent.

He who does these things will never be shaken." v. 1-5

The psalmist warns his readers to live a righteous life as they walk the path to where God leads them. To do so, he gives advice on conduct, speech, who to invest their time with, and how to spend their wealth. We will know how to live and not be shaken from our path if we find and follow the truth of God's word.